


An Officer and the Computer

by SuchaPrettyPoison



Series: In Every Timeline [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - World War II, F/M, Historical, History, Light Reading, Romance, WWII, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7023865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuchaPrettyPoison/pseuds/SuchaPrettyPoison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During WWII, science and math minded women were recruited to work as human computers to aid the war effort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Today we may say aloud before an awe-struck world: We are still masters of our fate. We are still captain of our souls."  
> \- Winston Churchill

The storm that had been raging outside was nothing like the one that was raging across the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. She knew that she had no right to complain in the slightest during this time of war, still her favorite utilitarian heels were all but soaked through and she was thanking all the powers that be that she hadn’t gone through the process of drawing a faux stocking seam up the back of her leg; the stocking shortage was really testing her patience for fashion.

The forest green floral printed material of her dress danced below her knees as she stopped on the mat just inside the great red bricked building. Placing her umbrella in the appropriate holder next to the entrance, she then fixated her smile at the grey haired woman sitting behind the cherry stained desk. 

“Felicity.” The older woman’s melodic voice chastised. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there. Why ever are you here?”

Today had been Felicity’s day off. She had had plans to explore the city and act as though everything that was going on in the world had just been a horrid nightmare that she’d just woken up from. Still, when Dr. Wells had called letting her know that Caitlin had fallen ill and that she was needed to head up the program for the day, she had caught the earliest train into the city. It had been a privilege, as one of the younger members of the team, to have such responsibility placed upon her shoulders. She was the second in command of the group of women who spent their days using their special set of math and science skills to calculate weapon trajectories, which they would then pass on to soldiers on the front line and bombardiers in the air.

When Europe had erupted into war in 1939, she felt a pull to do something, anything to help the poor innocents. It had been an undercurrent of emotion that ran through the country, with many choosing to turn a blind eye and act as though they were living in an American bubble. They had enough troubles at home, the effect of the Great Depression could still be felt, and America was finding its footing once again. That all changed on an early December morning, over two years ago, with the bombing of Pearl Harbor. America was thrust into war. Many of the young men ran head long in to the fray, signing up to be part of the fight.

Felicity needed to do her part. Everyone was doing their part. So many of her female friends became nurses to help the cause, but she wasn’t any good with blood. Others had found work in factories, but her innate clumsiness made her fearful that she’d do more damage than good. Then she had heard talks of recruiting young female scientist and mathematicians from colleges to be computers, and MIT, her college, was one of the headquarters. She’d approached a professor at the same time that he approached her with the offer.

She never looked back.

“I just can’t seem to stay away Edith. Have you seen Dr. Wells? I’d like to let him know of my arrival before heading in to the office, you know how engrossed I become in my work.” 

Felicity smoothed a hand over the high ponytail that she’d captured her hair in, the natural curls would have created a halo of frizz from all of the moisture in the air, but she didn’t have the energy to bother with it a great deal. Dropping her hand, she crooked a finger and used her knuckle to slide the bridge of her glasses just a fraction higher on the bridge of her nose. The glasses had been a gift to herself with her first paycheck, her old ones were held together by pure spirit alone, these were made of sleek lines that complemented the softness of her features. 

“He and several officers are in the back analysis room; but I’m certain he’d like to see you before you get a start on your day.”

Making small talk for a few moments longer, Felicity parted from Edith with the sole mission to touch up her face – and possibly try to smooth her hair – before she met with any officers. Dr. Wells she saw day in and day out, he’d seen her with her hair coming loose of its hold which caused her to look extremely disheveled. Officers, however, did not need to see her looking in any way unkempt. They needed to trust in her abilities and in the team’s.

Turning her gaze down she opened up her pocketbook, as she moved through the winding halls without real thought. Most of the past two years had been her in this building and she knew it like the back of her own hand. Felicity was distracted by thoughts of the day and what needed to be done, when a male voice caught her attention.

“Ma’am?” 

The deeply male voice caused her to pull her hand from her pocketbook and turn, the lipstick that was in her grasp fell out, only to bounce and then roll towards the man’s feet. He was dressed in an olive green Army officer’s uniform, his hat tucked under his right arm, and a single crutch placed under his left arm as he limped at a calculated rate toward her.   
My, the man was exquisite. 

In no way was the man beautiful, his features had been hardened by the war, or so she imagined. There was a stern almost jagged look to him, everything about the man was angular, and she wondered if him smiling would soften his features in any way. Even with all of that, or maybe because of it, Felicity couldn’t think of any other man she’d rather stare at all day. Still, he had called out to her for a reason, surely he didn’t just want her to gawk at his attractiveness. She needed to stop staring. Giving her head a light shake, she lowered her gaze and found her voice.

“Yes?” She asked on an exhale of breath, as she crouched low and followed her runaway lipstick across the floor. This was extremely un-ladylike, was the thought on repeat in her head. First she had gawked and now she was chasing her tube of lipstick, these were not the first sort of impressions that anyone would want to make. Color bloomed across her cheeks as she found herself by the man’s feet, her arm outstretched to pick up her lipstick when she saw thick tanned fingers wrap around it and then held it out to her. 

Felicity’s eyes drifted up from his fingers to his vivid blue eyes. Oh dear, she forgot how to breathe for a moment. Looking up at him, his large body which he had half folded down to meet her, his free hand holding on to his crutch for balance purposes, and he was smiling. The smile, which looked like it was out of practice, caused her heart to trip up as it took some of the hardness and years from his face. 

“Thank you for that. I must say that you startled me. I was in my head as to this equation that we’ve been working on, and then the lipstick went flying, which you know how that all ended because you saw it happen.” Taking her lipstick from him, Felicity then took the hand he offered to bring herself up to her unimpressive height; her face flushed further to a deep scarlet. The man’s smile had become more natural and she saw laughter crinkle the corners of his eyes, it did amazing things for his face, “I’m certain you didn’t call out just to hear me babble. Which I will stop in three, two, and one. How may I help you Colonel?”

“Would you happen to know where Dr. Wells is?” My, he did have a lovely voice.

“Well, it’s your lucky day, I was just heading to see him myself before I begin work for the day. I’d be honored to accompany you for the short walk.” 

Her mind was yelling at her that she needed to touch up before she did any more, but the words spilled from her lips before she could stop them. He gave her a nod of thanks, so she knew there would be no hopes of fixing herself up. It was all probably for the best. She didn’t need it to seem like she had this job to solely to get herself a man. Her mother had hoped that Felicity’s desire to go to college would have her married within a year, but now she was twenty-three and still no prospects in sight. True, the world was at war, and her love life was not of great importance, but if you asked her mother, she’d have a different view of the matter entirely.

“You mentioned an equation had your mind occupied and that you are headed to begin work for the day. I take it your one of the computer girls.” 

The Colonel struck up conversation as they idly walked down the barren hall. He wasn’t asking a question, at the same time he was, and Felicity smiled up at his apparent unease at small talk. She wondered how long had it been since he had to participate in such discourse. He was injured -- or possibly this was him healed from an injury, he did look rather settle with the crutch, would he forever need its assistance to walk? On that note, had he been fixed up overseas? Was now helping lead the charge from a behind the scene post? If that was the case, then he probably did take time with idle socializing. This man was evidently a man of action, she could tell that much from the way he held himself, sitting back and just watching would not be something that he would enjoy. Felicity was certain that he gave the nurses and doctors hell.

“I am the second lead for the computing trajectories, first lead for the mathematics portion of the venture. Caitlin Snow is first lead for the team and for the science division, with of course Dr. Wells overseeing our program on a whole. It nice knowing that I’m able to do my part using my talents that many have brushed off.”

“Why would people brush them off?”

“They are not becoming of a lady of course. My mother was hoping for me to find a husband and leave all the math and schooling behind, but after doing meaningful work which I enjoy, it would be hard for me to find joy in just being a wife. Not that being a wife and mother wouldn’t be rewarding, it’s just,” she paused looking for the proper way to state her thoughts, instead of letting her mouth run away from her, “I like knowing that I’m doing good for the world. It’s a euphoric sensation, knowing that this thing I’m good at can make the world better. Does that make sense?” 

He gave her a slight nod, so she took that as her cue to continue talking, “When I was thirteen I took apart the family radio, because I wanted to understand how it worked. Growing up, my thoughts were on numbers and equations, how data could be inputted and then through the science of number there be an outputted answer to the data. It just isn’t how a lady should be. I’ve probably been told it for nearly my entire life.”

She felt her shoulders wilt somewhat as she half mumbled her final words. Not that she wished to fit into the ideal mold, but she did want her mother and the world to know that she could be a woman and be a mathematician. The two weren’t mutually exclusive.

“You are very becoming as a lady. And I know the country is grateful for all that you do here.” His words caused a blush to warm her cheeks and if she had taken that moment to look up at him as he spoke, she would have noticed the coloring of his own cheeks.

“You keep letting me babble on.” Turing a corner they came, she stopped just before a wooden door on the right, and angled her body toward the Colonel while tipping her head back to look up into his eyes.

“I enjoy your voice.”

“I think you just enjoy seeing me blush.” 

He gave her a boyish grin, which caused her heart to pick up speed. Felicity felt a flutter of feminine awareness. She’d thought him exquisite before, but with that grin, her knees nearly gave out. She’d originally thought him to be at least a decade older than herself given his rank ,but now she was struck at just how young he was, possibly only in his late twenties. Distracting herself from where her thoughts wished to wander, or at least trying to, Felicity thought of the numbers as she turned her attention to the door and gave a quick sharp rap of her knuckles on the wood before pushing it open.

“Dr. Wells, I believe I found a missing Colonel roaming the halls.” Smiling brightly at the officers in the room with a slight nod of her head as a way of greeting, she then landed her gaze on her supervisor. Dr. Wells had been one of her professors, the one that had recruited her as fate would have it, his lean-wiry frame stood out from the three other men in the room. He was a brilliant scientist and looked like a man who spent a great deal of time pouring over research. 

The impressive bulk of her Colonel came up behind her and she stepped aside to give him full entrance into the room, “Ah, Colonel Queen. Welcome. I see that you’ve already met Ms. Smoak.” 

Colonel Queen.  
She wished she’d been forward enough to request his name, instead of letting her mouth get away from her about her work and her place as a woman in today’s society.

Colonel Queen gave a nod of his chin as he entered the room. The sleeve of his right arm brushing gracefully across Felicity’s front as she held the door open and she fought back a visible shiver, “Now that we are all here, gentlemen, I’d like to introduce Ms. Felicity Smoak. She is the mathematics lead for the program, and second in command. Ms. Smoak came in on her day off because Ms. Snow has, regretfully, fallen ill.”

She felt all the eyes on her and gave the room her best smile, “And now I must, regretfully, bid you all good day, but please, feel free to stop in and see the team in action. If you’ll excuse me gentlemen, it was lovely meeting you all.” Giving a dip of her head, and forcing her gaze not to linger on Colonel Queen, she left the men to their meeting.

\---

Felicity sat in her chair, with her legs pulled up and under her in the way a child might sit on the ground. The table she sat at had papers and books littered across it, as she held her pencil in between her lips, her eyes scanning the equation and calculation she’d spent the better part of five hours working on. It was now well pass lunch time and the rest of the team were working on separate projects. She’d make sure to pop in and see how the work was coming. They all would look over each other’s work to make certain of no error, she could see how people would find it tedious, but she loved every moment of it.

Pushing her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose, she was fully enraptured in the numbers upon her page and just called out a ‘come in’ when there was a faint knock on her door. The pencil that had been in her lips now was being flicked at a high rate of speed between her pointer and middle finger, causing a frantic drumming upon her notes.

“If you just give me one more moment, I’ll hand you over the file and you can have a double look at the numbers to make certain everything lines up, then we can send it off to Commander Diggle’s unit. Do you know if any progress has been made for the Barry’s team? He said that he’d telegraph for an update by the end of today, and I’d like to have it for him if we can.” Barry, her best friend from childhood, had joined up in the air force just out of high school; he was fast, probably one of the best pilots out there in the skies. The air force wouldn’t take him at first because he was five pounds under the requirement. So, Felicity had helped him gain the five pounds and a week later he was enlisted. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but she was proud of the work he was doing and would do whatever she could to help him on out.

“I’ll look over it but don’t know how much help I would be.” 

Her pencil dropped from her fingers and her gaze snapped up at the sound of Colonel Queen’s voice. There he stood, just inside of her workspace, his size making the room – which was already quaint -- feel smaller and he looked slightly uncertain. 

“Colonel Queen, this is an unexpected surprise.” 

A good surprise, in Felicity’s book. 

Getting to her feet she smiled brightly up at him, “Just give me a moment to check in with my team and hand off this file.” Looking around the room for an empty seat, she got up and took a stack of books from a chair and offer it to him, while holding the file to her chest. “I’ll be back in two ticks.”

Which she was, with a new file in hand; once she was done with the Colonel, she was going to look over the latest report for Barry. Colonel Queen had sat his muscled frame in the chair and angled it towards her desk; the crutch was leaning against the wall, which was just an arm’s reach away. There was a brown paper bag now sitting upon her desk and she cocked her head to the side as her eyes wandered back to the man who seemed to be filling much of her work space who was watching her with interest burning in his blue eyes.

“Now, at what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Felicity closed the door behind her and moved passed him to seat herself properly at her desk, putting the file down and placing her chin on top of interlaced fingers, her elbows firmly planted on the wooden tabletop.

“I was told you worked through lunch.” Who had been tattling on her? It was most likely Carol - Carol tended to be a mother hen of sorts - not that Felicity would complain most of the time because it was just her way of showing affection. However, Felicity didn’t want Colonel Queen to worry about her. He’d clearly seen much more of the world than she had and she would not add her petty problems on to his shoulders to carry.

Colonel Queen was a man who would instinctively shoulder all burdens, as though he were Atlas, caring the world on his shoulders. For a fleeting moment, Felicity wondered if he would share his own burden with her so that she might aid him. 

Shaking off the thought, she waved off his words, “I become engrossed in my work. There are worse things that could happen than skipping a meal.”

“True but I was informed you have made this a habit.” 

It had to have been Carol chatting his ear about her.

“Gathering intel on me?” 

A sheepish look came across his face, and again she wondered just how many years he had on her. When she’d first met him in the hall, Felicity had placed him in his thirties from the lines of his face and the depth of his eyes. Though now, with boyish look to his face, he looked closer to her age. It was truly amazing what war did to the soul.

“I like to know all the variables.” Was his terse response, and it caused Felicity’s smile to widen because it was obvious the man was not used to being teased; for some odd reason that pleased her. Pulling the stoic expression back across his face, he continued, “I brought you something to eat Ms. Smoak. Your country needs you to keep up your strength.” 

And indeed, in the brown bag was an apple and what appeared to be a cheese sandwich. Warmth spread through her veins, it was such a sweet gesture. Taking out the sandwich, she smiled brightly at him.

“Please call me Felicity, Colonel. This was incredibly thoughtful of you. Thank you.” She received a nod in reply, and watched him war with himself as she took a bite of the sandwich. It was delicious. Clean and simple flavors that filled her stomach. In all honesty, she hadn’t realized how hungry she’d been till she took that bite and fought back the urge to cram the rest of it down her throat.

“I’m going back tomorrow morning.” That took all thoughts of her hunger away and she put the food down, looking at him with wide eyes, “Have the first plane out.”

Wetting her lips, she said the only thing appropriate that came to mind, “Then I wish you all the best Colonel.”

“Oliver.” He corrected, and she couldn’t help but smile. 

Oliver. The name suited the man before her.

“Then I wish you all the best Oliver.” He gave her another nod, and she wondered why they would be sending him back, he had obvious issues with his leg after all. 

Surely he could find work with the Army while staying in the States. There was a tense moment, the force of acting properly was weighing heavily on her. Oliver didn’t need the tense formality, he was probably looking for the blushing girl who babbled out of turn. “Why are you going back? If you don’t mind me asking.” She hurried to add the second part in fear that he'd think her rude.

He gave her a dark grin that in no way reached his eyes. “Your skills are put to the best use here,” he gestured around her space, “My skills are best for battle.”

“Not to be insensitive, but I have noticed the crutch and limp.” Felicity pointed out as gently as she could. It’s not that she saw him as only a man with a limp, but it was part of him. A story that she didn’t know if she’d ever want to hear, but knowing that if he ever opened up to her, she’d listen with baited breath.

“My days of action are gone, but not all battles require the use of legs. I am still of use. I’m a strategies expert. Told you I like to know all the variables, but I need to be there in the war rooms and in the heart of it all to figure out what the next best move is.” The man must be brilliant, it took a special way of thinking when it came to strategies. Felicity was always more of a billiards or black jack kind of girl when it came to her brain, Oliver on the other hand was a man of chess. 

The Colonel was not only the most stunning man she’d ever seen, but she was sure his brain was just as equally so. She immediately didn’t want him in any sort of harm, it was a silly thought seeing as the way the world was at this time, but she wanted him safe. She’d never wanted something so badly in all her life.

“I must confess, I’m not too please at the thought of you in the heart of it all. But I understand the need to be there. Barry has the same drive, I swear he has piloted suicide missions, and I know they are because I’m the one doing the math for him half the time.” There was a slight catch in her voice and she saw Oliver’s face become reserved. His expressions weren’t exactly the most open, but she watched in fascination as he seemed to pull back internally and his gaze barely flicked down to her left hand.

“Barry is your…”

“Best friend.” She rushed to finish his question with her own answer. “He’s a speed pilot. One of the best. Actually he fell in love with a nurse he met after France was taken back, Iris. He glows in his letters about her. Says she can’t wait to meet me, and the feeling is mutual. It’s crazy how love shines through even the darkest of times, gives you a sense of hope.”

“You are remarkable.” Heaven help her, his words caused warmth to spread under her skin.

“Because I believe in hope?”

“Because of everything. You are a remarkable woman Felicity. If this had been another time, an earlier time, I would have asked you out for a dance.” 

The sound of his masculine voice caressing her name was not something she'd soon forget.

“Why not now?” Felicity all but challenged. Knowing before he said it the reason for his reserve. Still, this man was a strategies expert, she was certain he’d come into this room with a deliberate plan. The only question was, what was his goal?

“Not in the position to dance anymore.” There was an air of bitterness to his words, at the same time he tried to play it off.

“Hogwash. Come stand. We’ll dance here and you can tell me about you, seeing as you already know how remarkable I am.” Felicity moved to stand in front of him, her hands out stretched waiting for Oliver to grasp them and move to his feet. There was a crackle of energy filling the air and it set her heart fluttering as he took her hands. Hers appeared so slight and pale compared to his as she helped him to his feet and paused while he caught his footing. She placed his hands the dip of her waist and placed hers on the tops of his shoulders and swayed lightly while humming a tune.

The way he held her in such a tentative way at first caused her heart to speed up. Oliver pulled her in several inches closer after a moment, and Felicity had to fight back the urge to close the gap between them and press into the warmth and strength of his body. 

There was something about this man that called to her on a visceral level. In no way did she want to fix Oliver, it wasn’t a coddling pull. No, she wanted to be at his side, because she felt that she could take on the world if he stood by her side and just held her hand.  
It was silly thought, seeing as she barely even knew the man.

“Will you always have to use the crutch?” Felicity’s question came out low as her feet took a step closer to him, all the while keeping his gaze. She wanted to lay her head upon his chest, but more she wanted to watch his eyes.

“Or a cane.” 

She half wondered how bad the injury had been, but quickly chased the thought away. 

“Does that bother you?”

“Yes.” Was his open and honest reply, he pressed on without her asking another word. “War changes a man. Stays with him. It will stay with me both physically and emotionally. There are days when I don’t want the visual reminder.”

“Still, you’re going back.” Her voice was soft even to her own ears.

“It’s the right thing to do.” Oliver’s body went rigid, and Felicity moved a hand from his shoulder up to cup his cheek. With the heels she fit under his chin with space to spare, she figured the span of his chest was easily double the size of her own, and although she felt delicate in his hold, she also felt safe. It was an odd sensation to have only known this man for such a short while and feel so very connected with him. Logically it made no sense, but logic never did come in to play when it came to matters of the heart.

His voice broke through her wayward thoughts, “I’d like to write to you, Felicity.” 

Focusing back on the man who was swaying with her to no music, she saw the unease in his eyes while he tried to play if off like it was something he did every day. Asking to write to a person in a time of war meant a great deal, it meant putting time and effort, meant waiting for letters and having your heart crushed when one didn’t come in the post.  
She wanted to write to him.

“I’d like that. You’re a rather interesting man Oliver Queen. And I don’t mean interesting in any sort of negative connotation. What I mean if you’d be a man I’d like to get to know better. Not that I typically like to get to know men better, I do like to get to know most people on a purely platonic causal level, because it’s rather nice to be able to greet someone by name as you see them in passing. I swear I’m making such a muck out of one simple question you asked me. Now, I must make certain: Are you sure you want to write to me? I can’t promise that I won’t be as wordy in my letters, you may be getting some novels in the mail having a correspondence with me.”

Oliver’s eyes tracked over her, and she pulled in her lip as she watched him taking all that she was in, “What I’ve seen these past couple of years makes it difficult at times to see people not as missions. You are the first person, in a while, that I’ve been able to see as a person, and I’d love to get to know you better.”

Her heart skipped several beats and the notion of breathing became foreign for a moment. Those words were laced with hope and promise. Colonel Oliver Queen, the strategies expert had come to bring her lunch and let her know he wished to write to her. Dear heaven, the smile she gave him was large and bright, she wanted to know more about this man.

“Will you take me out dancing when you come home?”

Felicity was trying to see what he was expecting from the letter. Was he looking just for a companion to write to or did he feel that pull to her that she felt to him.

“Is this a stipulation to you writing to me?” His eyebrow quirked up as there was a teasing light to his words.

“I’m enjoying dancing with you now. I’m certain I’d enjoy it more if I got dressed up and there was music.”

“You’d like to see me again?” It was much more of a statement than a question. Felicity watched in wonder as the rigid way he held his shoulders fell away, and an ease in the way he held himself took over. The man was complex and slightly damaged, but Felicity couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather spend her time getting to know.

“That is what you wanted? I mean, I assumed from the data that I collected that the reason you’d want to write to me is because you’d like to see me again. Granted I could have read too much in to your request.”

“I’d like to see you when I get back.”

All she could do was smile and shake her head to show that she’d like that as well, a knock at her door pulled her back to the fact that they were in her work space, there was work to do, and there was a war going on. This was not the time to lose her focus. 

Stepping from Oliver’s hold, she ran her hands over her dress before calling for the person to enter. 

Carol and Stella entered with files stacked high in their arms, and Felicity knew her break was over and that it was time to get back to work. Oliver picked up on this fact as well. He politely greeted the two women and gave one last lingering look to Felicity before saying his goodbye and exiting from the room.

It would be after the brief sit down with Carol and Stella and after going over several files that Felicity realized she’d never given him her address.  
Her heart had sank. 

\---

For several days Felicity had all but beat herself up for not giving her address to Colonel Oliver Queen, then she wanted to throttle him for not coming back to get the information. After all, it wasn’t like she could just ask after him without it raising several eyebrows. She was a computer girl and he was an Officer, they were expected to be professional. It was probably for the best. Felicity needed to place him out of her mind and work on what she did best.

The weeks passed by as a blur of repetition till one day Edith came into Felicity’s work space with an envelope in hand.

“Honey, this was delivered for you.” Edith handed Felicity the envelope with a secret smile before she left Felicity alone in her room; shutting the door behind her with a light click.

The paper felt heavy in her hands as she left her eyes take in the quick precise way her name was written. Nothing about the hand writing was flowery, it was almost as if it was short and to the point, and it alone caused her heart-rate to pick up. 

Sliding a finger along the edge she open it up to reveal three pages folded in half. She took them out and smoothed the letter out on her desk with a slight tremble to her hands. Sliding the pages apart, her eyes came to rest on the last page where it was signed ‘With you in my thoughts, Oliver.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “A man must know his destiny… if he does not recognize it, then he is lost. By this I mean, once, twice, or at the very most, three times, fate will reach out and tap a man on the shoulder… if he has the imagination, he will turn around and fate will point out to him what fork in the road he should take, if he has the guts, he will take it.”  
> ― George S. Patton Jr.

He had become all too familiar with skies clouded by gun smoke and debris, that the sun against the clear blue of the sky bathed him in far too much light and caused him to shift his weight imperceptibly to the leg that hadn’t been mangled and disfigured by the war. The brightness and being back on American soil after being gone in the darkness for so long made him feel like he should turn on his heel and leave.  He felt out of place in the light and relative stillness that came with a normal day, the potted emerald green fern he held didn’t help with his sense of unease.  At the shop he had told himself that the potted plant was better than flowers, cut flowers would die but the fern would live, now he was rethinking his choice of gifts.

This was foreign for him; there was no room for unease when giving the orders in battle, there was only decisive action, adrenalin, and the knowledge that he had all the variables possible to create the best plan of attack. That had been his norm for years.  His abilities with strategic planning along with the mortality of war had caused him to rise quickly through the ranks. 

He’d been a kid when he had enrolled in West Point, his parents had thoughts that an Officer’s uniform would work well with his charming smile and family name when it came time for him to settle in an easy career choice. He had liked the way dames reacted to this Officer’s status.  If he had chosen to, he could had made it through the war shifting ranks and never seeing the horrors of war – many other officers had.  If he had done that he would be able to walk unassisted, he would still be comfortable in the light, but if he had done that he would have never met Felicity.

Clutching the handle of his cane while gripping the potted plant closer to his chest, Oliver took deliberate steps up towards the building while his heart ratcheted up in tempo.

 

\---

_February 23, 1944_

_Dear Colonel Queen, or should I say ‘Dear Oliver’?  I did toy with the notion of addressing the letter ‘Dearest Oliver’ because it flows better than the rest, but it holds such an air of intimacy and I don’t wish to come across so forward.  This letter will be the letter that truly sets the tone for our correspondence, because yours had to be polite seeing as we just met, but I get to take control with how I choose to reply.  Heavens, this greeting has probably gone on for too long, but I promised myself that I wouldn’t start over.  No, too many people attempt perfection, and I have long ago embraced all imperfections and find them to be more satisfying than a poised lie.  So, I will write as the words come to me – I did warn you that any letter from me may prove to be a novel in length, and you have witnessed my speaking patterns first hand._

_I received your letter today. Edith, the lovely woman who works at the reception desk, brought it to me at exactly 3:24 p.m.  It’s a silly thing to note but you see, I’m not in the habit of receiving letters at my place of work, or at all really.  That’s not to say that I don’t have correspondences.  My mother lives in Nevada you see, and the cost of a call can make a girl’s jaw become unhinged, so we tend to write at length to one another.  The letters must seem petty to others.  They are filled with nonsense and hold nothing of importance, but they keep us close even with the miles between us.  
My, I’ve gotten off track._

_Back to your letter.  
Your letter I received today at 3:24 p.m., and was nearly floored by it all. Mainly because I had come to think of how I would like to throttle you (and I had come up with some fairly creative ways).  On that day that you left, I realized that I hadn’t given you my information nor had I obtained yours.  And I must confess I was rather annoyed with myself for several days, but then swiftly moved to the wanting to throttle you portion of my annoyance.  That’s probably all too bold and transparent to say, but there you have it.  It would be a lie for me to say that I had been all cool I the wake of realizing that we hadn’t exchanged information.  I had enjoyed talking to you in that short time and had enjoyed our dance, you were by far the best dance partner that I’ve ever had.  And I know that you must think that I am buttering you up, but you must know by this point – even though its barely been a blimp in time – that I am not one for flattery, I think I am to abrupt for things of that nature.  Abrupt probably isn’t the best word, but more to the point of that I say what is on my mind, case in point my rant on women’s place in society and how I fit into it all.  Truly, I enjoyed our dance more than any other I’ve had.  You are an impressive man Oliver._

_I think I’ve read through your words at least ten times already.  
You have an easy elegance in your writing and I do hope that you never feel the need to put up a front in your writings to me – though I don’t know firsthand, I do have some sense as to what is going on.  Still, I felt some weight slip off my shoulders hearing that you are doing well and found myself smiling at the story you told of you and Thea.  You must missed her something fierce. I always wondered what it would have been like to have a sibling, there are times when being an only child is rather lonely._

_Well, I think this letter has gone on for long enough at the moment. Please stay safe Oliver.  I would be very upset with you if I lost the best dance partner I’ve ever had.  I will drop this off in the post tomorrow and hope it finds its way to you quickly._

_Always,  
_ _Felicity_

_\---_

_March 1, 1944_

_Dear Oliver (I’ve decided on this greeting for the moment, I made the executive decision before I put pen to paper this time)_

_I am certain that my first letter hasn’t arrived to you yet, but this came to my mind and by that I mean I decided to attempt a suave like drawing to send to you. It turned out so poorly, that clearly it would be in my best interest to burn it so no one else would ever have to see it.  Instead I have made the horrible decision to send it to you.  I really should just stick to numbers._

_Enjoy the enclosed drawing. I’ll allow you to try and figure out what it was meant to be._

_Always,  
_ _Felicity_

_\---_

_September 17, 1944_

_Dear Oliver,_

_What am I going to do? It’s a stupid question and so selfish, but the thought has been tearing through my head over the past several months.  While you are in the thick of it, I’m over here worried about my future in the most selfish sort of way. What will I do when all of this is over?  What will I do when all the men come back and the women are expected to leave the work force? This is such a petty thing to write to you about, but the thought has been filling me with an anxiety of sorts._

_Most of all I want this war to be done, for the horrors to stop and for you to be home safe. I want all the fighting to be done and for you to get to spend time with your family, I can’t imagine how difficult this all must be for you.  I do hope that my onslaught of letters keep you mildly entertained.  It seems that I have gone from writing novels to writing whenever a thought I wish to share with you comes into my head._

_I really am a horrible writing companion aren’t I?_

_Please don’t answer that._

_Ah! Did I tell you that Barry and Iris got engaged?  I just received word the other day.  He’s madly in love with her and I half fear that he’ll end up staying in France, he has no family to speak of and by the sounds of it Iris’ family have taken him in as one of their own.  But it’s all awfully exciting.  A little ray of hope in these hard times._

_Always,  
_ _Felicity_

_\---_

_December 10, 1944_

_Dearest Oliver,_

_I don’t know if this has ever actually come up in our letters, actually I know it hasn’t. It’s not that I tried to hide it, but more of the fact that it’s just not something that I thought to share, which is silly of me seeing the world we live in today, though I know that it won’t matter to you but it needs to be said (or, well, written out)._

_We’ve passed most to the general holidays, but I know that we are coming upon the Christmas season and seeing as Hanukkah begins tonight, I realized that I never told you that I am Jewish._

_I feel guilty about it sometimes when I let my mind wander. Guilty that my family moved to America several generations ago and because of that we were spared the atrocities that so many others are going through.  I try not to dwell on the thought that if I had been born in where my great grandparents had lived, that I might not be alive.  It tightens my chest and makes bile rise in my throat.  How is it that I can be so lucky while others are not?_

_I think it’s the guilt that pushes me to work the long hours, trying to help in any way I can._

_My mother was hoping that I would be able to come home for Hanukkah but work keeps me here. She understands how important it is, though I think I’m breaking her heart.  I haven’t been home since America entered war began, even longer if I’m honest.  There’s just no way that I could leave my post for the selfish reason that I miss my mom._

_Seems this is another letter that has gotten away from me._

_I hope this finds you well Oliver. I have taken to keeping the letters I received from you in a hat box I picked up this past weekend, they had begun taking over my vanity and needed a proper place of their own in my room.  (That sounds rather intimate, don’t linger on that, it’ll cause me to blush horribly.  Do you recall how bright my face can get?  I really shouldn’t keep bringing up my lesser traits to you.)_

_Please find enclosed a photo-strip (there was a booth where I picked up the box and I just couldn’t help myself). See, I’m not just about the numbers all the time.  Though I do know that that my last letter was rather heavy with them as you pointed out, but you did ask me to explain, so that’s really all on you._

_Also, find enclosed a little holiday gift._

_Yours,  
_ _Felicity_

_\---_

_January 25, 1945_

_My Dearest Oliver,_

_First and foremost, congratulations on making General. I know you’ve told me not to put much stock in the titles of it all, and I won’t, just you know, congratulations Oliver._

_Secondly, please enjoy this valentine I found while at the shop. It contains a horrible pun that cause me to burst out laughing the moment I read it.  I’m anticipating this will get to you around mid-February._

_Hope it brightens your day._

_Yours,  
_ _Felicity_

_\---_

_February 15, 1945_

_Oliver,_

_I got word from Iris today. Barry was shot down and no one has heard a word of him. I_  
don’t know how to fix this.  
I don’t know how to help.

_I’m going to be ill._

_F_

_\---_

_April 15, 1945_

_My Oliver,_

_Caitlin and I went out tonight. And by out I mean she came over and we had one too many drinks.  Neither of us fine pleasure in going out, not when the men we want are miles away._

_Have I ever told you that?_

_I mean, I’ve been rather obvious since the moment I saw you but I don’t think I’ve blatantly told you that I want you. So let me do that now: Oliver Queen, I want you. You are the most exquisite man I have ever seen, and that alone flustered me instantly.  (I know you told me that I was becoming when we met, but we both know that I was a disheveled mess.)  Then you had to go be sweet, and smile, and bring me that sandwich, and dance with me, and be brilliant and loyal.  I think I started falling in love with you then._

_We must play a game of billiards when you come back home, or back to Boston I should say. I could school you in billiards and impress you with skills.  I just want you safe and I want that dance that was promised what feels like forever ago.  Oh, and I’d like a kiss.  I’ve thought about what it would be like for too long._

_At this point I think my postman is terrified of me. I nearly jump him every time I see him in hopes that he has a new letter from you._

_I must go post this before I lose my nerve and pardon any issues with the writing, I know it’s not my best._

_Yours always,  
_ _Felicity_

_\---_

_April 16, 1945_

_DO NOT READ THE LETTER I SENT YOU ON APRIL 15 TH.   
_ _IF YOU READ IT I WILL DIE OF EMBARESSMENT._

 _Please let you open this letter first.  
_ _Please. Please. Please._

_~~I swear I’m never drinking again.~~ _

_Felicity_

_\---_

_May 8, 1945_

_We just got word of the surrender. Oliver, is it really done?  I mean, sure on paper it’s done, but when will it be complete?  When will you get to come back to America?_

_I’m certain that they will want to keep you there for a tad bit longer, you’ll be an asset in the aftermath of all of this._

_I must get back to work - even though none of us are in the mood at the moment to work. But just because there was a surrender doesn’t mean everyone will abide._

_Hope that we’ll get that dance soon._

_(Please tell me that you didn’t read/get that April 15 th letter.)_

_Yours,  
_ _Felicity_

_\---_

Brilliant sunlight streamed in through the large windows which lined the walls and his cane made a dull thud on the well-worn carpet with every step he took. Oliver placed the fern down at the reception counter and immediately moved his now free hand up to take off his cap and placed it securely under his arm, as he gave the small grey haired woman behind reception a nod in greeting - Felicity had mentioned her in several letters, Edith - she spoke before he had the chance to form a proper thought. 

“Which of my girls have you come for?” Her voice was strong and almost echoed through the room. The look she gave him indicated that she knew exactly what business he had in the building.  Oliver gripped his cane tighter as his leg throbbed; it was a phantom throb at this point, he was healed, but there were times when he swore he could feel the searing pain engulf his leg.  It was a stark reminder of war that he would have to face every day, as if the countless other battle scars weren’t enough.  Felicity could do better than a man like him - it was a thought that had plagued him from them moment they had met, and yet he couldn’t help but be pulled into her orbit.  

With each letter, his affection for her grew. She wrote to him constantly, the times when the mail came he’d been one of the fortunate to receive multiple letters at once.  He had feared for a time that her correspondence would wane given seeing as he would not compete with her word count nor the quantity she managed to send.  His fears were in vain, because even though he sent one letter to her three, she continued to write him with enthusiasm.

At the best of times, Oliver was a man a few words, and those words had been all focus on the war efforts for years. There had been a learning curve to the way he communicated with her, as if he’d forgotten how to participate in normal society, but with each letter he grew more and more comfortable with the written word.  Correspondence with her had shed light on his humanity which he thought had been buried long ago under layers or grim, blood and smoke – war made young men old and hard. 

“Ms. Felicity Smoak, ma’am.” It sounded like he had gravel stuck in his throat.  

His hand instinctively covering the pocket where his wallet was stowed, and in it the photo-strip Felicity had sent him. It was common for men to carry around pictures of their sweethearts.  The pictures always seemed to be of the girl in her best light, smiling sweetly without a hair out of place, they beckoned their men to live and to come home to them.  Oliver would have been happy to have a picture like that of Felicity, but the strip he carried around made his heart thunder in his chest every time he pulled out it out to look.  It was worn from the amount of times he had pulled it out to look at it while he read her letters, or any time he felt the need for a pick-me-up. 

There were four small square photographs, each one different from the one before. The first picture had her smiling brightly at someone out of view of the camera, her fair curly hair was down and danced along her shoulders, she didn’t seem to pay any mind to the fact that it wasn’t properly styled (Oliver had imagined that it had been tied up so it was out of her face while she worked and she’d let it free when the time came for a bit of fun).  The next picture was a bit blurry and had caught her in the middle of a laugh, her lips were pulled back in a wide open mouth smile as her head tipped back and her eyes closed, joy exuded from her.  The third picture had her finally looking at the camera hands playing with her hair and a self-conscious smile as if she realized pictures were being taken.  The last picture had her smiling in a way that knocked the breath out of his chest, it was too sunny and open to come across as demure and sweet, the curls and waves of her hair were in disarray, and she looked like life itself. Oliver carried her with him everywhere he went.

The older woman’s eyes lit up and the smile she wore spread wider; her thin body was nearly vibrating with excitement.

“General Queen, of course. She’s been all a flutter for some time now.  Does she know that you’re coming or is this a surprise homecoming?”

Oliver ran a hand down his less than perfectly pressed uniform and there was a light stubble lining his jaw, he had come almost directly from the moment they had touched down, stopping only to pick-up the fern. Thoughts that he should have taken the time for a proper shave came to the forefront of his mind but his desire and need to see Felicity had been greater.

“Ah, well, I was in the neighborhood and –“

“Hogswash.”

That caused a small smile to pull at his lips, “You’re right ma’am. Do you know if she’s busy? “

“That girl would never be too busy for you. She should be in her work room.  Do you need directions to find your way?” 

Declining politely, Oliver shuffled to retrieve the fern while keeping his hat tucked under his arm. The doctors had thought his leg would improve with time, but the damage was too extensive and he had to accept the fact that this was the best his leg would ever be.  He was nearing his thirty-first birthday this year and yet, he felt decades older most days; the responsibilities that had been piled on him forced him to mature at a rapid rate.  As he made his way down the corridors to where he recalled Felicity’s work room was, he could hear the blood pumping in his ears. 

For coming on two years he had dreamt of seeing her again. Of walking down these halls.  He had dreamt of it so often that he knew the path as though he walked this route every day. 

Oliver wondered what her reaction would be at seeing him, he hadn’t responded to her last several letters – he hadn’t had a moment to himself with the aftermath of the surrender and by the time her letters had reached him he had passage booked back to Boston and knew he would arrive before any letter would.  
Would she be glad of his surprise visit? Or would the months of no word from him, have her attention pulled elsewhere?

Not that he thought her to be a fickle woman.  
Felicity was brilliant and lively, and a woman who could have her pick of any man she wished, and to think that she wished to spend her time with him caused heat to spread through him. The moment he’d seen her, flustered chasing after her run-away lipstick tube, he had known that he was ensnared by her.  She had pulled a smile from him without even trying, it was a rusty expression that he had become unaccustomed to, but within moments of meeting her she had him wanting to smile and filling him with warmth.  Oliver had felt like he could take on the world and win with the way she looked at him and felt whole when he’d held her in his arms as they danced.  Their limited time had been fleeting, but he knew by the time it came to leave that he wanted to belong to this woman. 

 "Oh, applesauce!”

The voice that had been playing in his dreams came from an office and a form was crouched in the doorway, the bright red of her dressed fitting to her form in the most perfect way. Oliver wanted to rush over and help her but he lacked the ability to do so.  
It was frustrating and embarrassing.

“Ma’am?” He called out as he continued toward her, watching as she went stock still her muscles tensing at the sound of his voice.  From her still crouched position, she turned her head and her perfectly painted red lips formed a perfect 'O' as her blue eyes widened.  There were papers all around her, as though they had fallen out of her grip and fluttered all around the floor, but she seemed to forget about them completely as she all but gawked at Oliver. 

“Oliver,” she spoke his name as a sigh and his whole body responded to the breathy sound, “I swear, if my mind is playing tricks on me, I cannot be held accountable for what I’ll do.”

He had worried that the strain of war, that the loss of her best friend, would have dampened her spirit; he should had known she was resilient.  
She looked like a dream - the windows bathed her in the filtered sunlight, her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and a pencil was poking out behind her ear. As she slowly rose to her feet, her red dress fell back to proper place, showing off all her delicate curves.  She was bright and soft in a way that he would never be. 

“And if you’re mind isn’t playing tricks?” With those words she was moving faster than he’d ever be able to.  

Her arms went up and around his neck while she pressed up on tip-toe and pressed her body fully flushed along his. His cane clattered along the ground and the potted plant crashed next to his feet as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her body up and against him further, as if he’d never let her go.  She smelt of fresh citrus and hope as she nuzzled his neck, her lips brushing against his skin while she took in deep breathes, her entire body shaking against him.

“Oliver.” Felicity kept saying his name over and over again as he held on to her. Oliver felt like he was a whole man with her in his arms, like he belonged in this world; in the brightness of the sun, away from the destruction of war. He needed her in his life. 

“You’re here. You’re back. Why aren’t you in Star City?  Oh, Thea is going to be beside herself when she sees you.  Not that I actually know what her reaction would be because I only know of her through your letters.  But I can only assume that she’d have a similar reaction to what I’m having.  Only hopefully not too similar, since I clearly don’t see you in a brotherly way.  That was too bold to say. What I mean is that…” She was talking far too quickly and her words were muffled against his neck as she held on to him, like if she were to let him go he would disappear. 

One of his large hands moved to the back of her neck and gave a light squeeze as she continued to babble on, her lips continuously grazing along his neck in a way that made his body even more acutely aware of the woman pressed against him. When she paused long enough to take a breath, he took that as his opening to speak.

“Hi.”

She gave a laugh that vibrate through his entire body, and shook her head as she loosened the grip she had on his neck. Falling back don of her heals, the slight separation allowed Oliver to tilt his head down so he could see her face fully now – she was so close that he could count the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the different hues of blue of her irises (which were bright with unshed tears), and the pink flush that was coloring her cheeks.  Felicity made to duck her head away from his gaze, but Oliver crooked a finger under her chin and guided her gaze back to him.

“Hi. Sorry I all but attack you the moment I saw you.” She mumbled.

“It was the best homecoming I could have asked for.” He said, his tone was as soft as he could make it and he gave her the brightest smile he could.  It was still slightly broken, he didn’t know if it would ever been truly fixed, but it was the best smile he had in him to give.  Felicity gave him a bright smile right back.  For a beat they stood in each other’s embrace before Felicity gave a shake of her head, her cheeks deepening with a flush of color.   

Taking a step out of his hold she surveyed the very public hallway where they stood. Papers strewn across the ground, dirt from the fern whose pot had received a massive chip on the lip that hit the ground, and his cane.

“I must seem like a disaster. I managed to drop the papers for my latest project, I’ve knocked your cane and plant from you.  To be fair though, you should take most of the blame.  If you had told me, I could have prepared myself somewhat.  I would have picked up a cake or something sweet at the very least.   I’d like to say that I wouldn’t have flung myself at you, but I don’t think I could say that and have it be true.  I swear, my mouth gets away from me.”  She was babbling again as she handed him his cane and then turned her attention to putting the dirt back in the pot.   
The soil darkened her pale skin as she scooped it in her hands and shifted to put it back to its proper location. All the while trying to avoid his gaze.

She was radiating a nervous energy that Oliver couldn’t understand.    
Could it be that she didn’t know?  
His heart thundered whenever he thought of her and reading the words in her delicate hand that she wanted him had caused him near cardiac arrest. She had to know that he wanted her too, that he had thought of her every day since they had parted. Her intelligence, wit, and kindness shone through her letters and he was in awe that she wanted him.  Oliver had worried that her feelings could have changed, but the way she’d reacted when she saw him.  Now as she tried to collect the soil from the ground, dirtying her hands, this wouldn’t do.  Bending at the waist, he gave her had a light tug and straightened up, Felicity coming to her full diminutive height. 

“Oliver, I’m going to get you dirty.” Felicity fussed. 

He paid her no mind, her dirty hands were nothing. The grim could be washed away with soap and water, all that mattered was having her close.

“In your letters you called me ‘Dearest Oliver’ and signed off as ‘Yours, Felicity.’” 

“Yes. I know all about the letters seeing as I wrote them.”  She said almost shyly.

Oliver gave a nod of his head, that bright smile never fading. He was a strategic expert, he organized battle plans and weighed all possible outcomes given a litany of variables.  This woman before him, knew him better than most, he had poured himself into the letters he wrote her. If the war taught him anything, it was that life was fleeting and unpredictable.  He had to hold on to the things that made his life worth living.  He had told her he wished to see her again, he had promised dancing, and with each letter he fell more and more in love with the remarkable woman that was Felicity Smoak. 

“I read the April 15th letter.”  She opened her mouth to speak but he pressed on, he needed to get the words out, he needed her to know where he stood.  
“I’d like to ask you to have me.  Well, that is to say, I’d like to be yours formally - for us to be each other’s.”  He felt his face heating up.  This was not going nearly as smoothly as he would have liked.  Taking a breath and regaining his composure he watched as she was giving him an unconscious nod of her head.  That smile that caused his heart to thunder was pulling at her lips.  
“I want you in my life always Felicity Smoak.  I want to dance every dance with you and listen to you as you go on about your work and calculations that I’ll never understand.  We can go as fast or as slow as you wish.  I love you.”

She was nodding her head, tears gathering once again in her eyes, as she bestowed on Oliver one of the best smiles that he’d ever been on the receiving end from. Bending his head, he brushed his lips lightly against hers in a tentative first kiss, which went against his basic instincts – he could feel the curve of her lips in a smile as he made contact for a second time.  This time, he applied more pressure, using his free had to move up to cup the side of her neck, the rough pad of his thumb brushing across her jawline.  Felicity gave a small moan at the extra pressure, and he took the opportunity to graze the tip of his tongue across her bottom lip.  She clutched at his uniform and he gripped his cane for the extra balance, which proved useful when her own tongue tentatively touched his own and he felt the world beneath his feet move.  With a moan, he deepened the kiss, allowing all of the desire he had for her to overtake him for a moment; he wanted her to know without a doubt how much he wanted her, how much he loved her. 

  

\---

 

_February 7, 1944_

_To the remarkable Felicity Smoak._

_I know that this letter will never find its way to you, because I have no intention of ever sending it. I plan to write another letter after I get down these words that I don’t dare to put into a letter to a woman who I’ve just met._

_Felicity, I could easily love you if I gave myself half the chance. I fear that if you write with as much charm as you talk that I will lose my heart to you without realizing that I have done so.  In these times we live, too many say and do rash things, they live in the moment for tomorrow may be the last day on this earth.  I will have you know that my actions are never rash these days, but you made me wish that I was.  I wish that I could have asked you to run away with me, but a promise for a dance seems to be as daring as I get._

_Maybe I will be able to love you in the light one day after this war is done._

_T_ _hese are not things that are to be said to a woman that I just met, and I have never spoken words like this to another, so for now, I will end this not-real-letter. I swear I will write another letter as best I can.  I will have to send it to your work, seeing as I was flustered and forgot to get your address.  See what you do to me without even trying._

 _With you in my heart.  
Yours,  
_ _Oliver_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Iwrote a thing...  
> Sometimes the need to continue a story comes to me - this was on of those times. I had toyed with the idea of writing a second chapter for some time, but nothing ever came to my head that made me want to sit down at write. But, well, inspiration hit while reading a book that had nothing to do with any of this. Still, it kick started my brain, and now here we are.
> 
> Um, I want to address Oliver's rank, it's so high because that was what was happening at that point in time in history -- I might have spent way too long researching that point -- Officers could be rather young given the state of the world.
> 
> I do feel bad about the whole Barry deal, but that is the devastating truth of war.
> 
> Bonus: This has been the first thing I've written since the big move! So, I hope everyone enjoys! It's pretty fluffy for the most part (seeing as it is a WWii AU). 
> 
> I accept fault for all horrible grammar and spelling errors - I am shit at proof reading my own works.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This is no war of chieftains or of princes, of dynasties or national ambition; it is a war of peoples and of causes. There are vast numbers, not only in this island but in every land, who will render faithful service in this war but whose names will never be known, whose deeds will never be recorded. This is a war of the Unknown Warriors; but let all strive without failing in faith or in duty, and the dark curse of Hitler will be lifted from our age.”
> 
> \- Winston Churchill

The air was thick with the scent of sweat, decay and smoke; Captain Oliver Queen had become all too accustomed to the smell - all the men and women had. This had become the new normal.  Death and destruction were now part of his daily life.  Knowing the sounds enemy planes made so that one knew when to bunker down was instinctual now, the same could be said when the sound of bullets cut through the air or when an explosion went off.  Then a second later it would pass, he’d stand to his full height again, and continue on with his duties without giving it all a second thought. This was his normal.

There was an absent ringing in his ears that had been present since an explosion some two months back, it was a reminder to always be vigilant. His uniform felt too tight as he took in a long breath. He was surrounded by boys, barely able to drink, who this war had forced to become men in their youth.  Faces set grim, each day was a day they fought for their own survival.  Their lives, their futures, were in his hands.  The piles of papers stared back at him on the crowded table, his own hand shook as he dragged it over the stubble lining his jaw and his mouth was as dry as a desert, the data staring back at him was grave. Long ago he had made peace with his own mortality.  This war had taken better men than him, and death didn’t worry him the way it once had.  He walked with death every day and although he didn’t embrace it with open arms, he didn’t pay it much mind that it might take him either.  Not on his own account at any rate, but he did mind it for the men under his command. 

They deserved to feel the sun again. To breathe in clean air.  To live. It was his job to see to that. 

The men didn’t need to like him and he didn’t need them to be his friends - to say he was a man of few words, would have been an exaggeration. Oliver didn’t waste his time and energy on idle talk.  If he spoke, the men surrounding him knew that they had better listen.  He wasn’t much older than some of them men under his command and he was younger than others – their lives counted on him coming up with the best plan and every death under his command was a mark that he carried.  His soul had grown heavy and dark in these past couple of years, he was a shell of the man he once was, and now he wasn’t sure if he’d consider himself human.

The paper surrounded him mocked him. No matter which way he looked at them, all he could see was death of his men.  There was no staying in their current location without a heavy body count.  They had been there for too long as it was - there was no way to retreat without great loss, there was no way to push forward without even more.  Every scenario ended in death.  He could easily survive if he wished it.  Perks of being an officer, of having a title that meant nothing and everything in the same breath.  Oliver didn’t care one way or the other about his title, he cared that his men lived, and he did what was required to see that they would be able to make it home to their families.  His life didn’t mean any more than any one of theirs, and so in whatever he decided to do, one thing was certain – he would be there fighting with his men. Dying with them.

\---

Standing precariously on her well-worn chair, Felicity Smoak cranked open the upper widow to air out the office which had become stuffy with the smell of parchment and ink. There were far worst smells in the world, but at the moment the scent was giving her a headache.  She wished she could just open the large window behind her desk, but the wind would dance with the papers she was pouring over and she needed them to stay exactly where they were so that she could figure out the correct equation needed to calculate the trajectory that was needed for an upcoming attack. 

The information was that of higher clearance level than she ever thought she’d receive as a woman and a civilian. She held the fate of thousands in her hands and she knew that she had a part in many deaths.  It was something that she had a hard time grasping in the beginning, that her ability with numbers and science was actually affecting the war across the ocean.  She had blood on her hands -- even if not directly, they were still bloody.

Bending to place her hands on the top of the chair’s back, Felicity eased her bare-feet to the wooded flooring. Then proceeded in dragging the chair the several feet back to her desk.  The task took all of several seconds, and then she occupied herself for several more by fitting her well-loved pumps back on to her feet.  She could be clumsy on her best days, and didn’t wish to risk her neck by wearing them while trying to get the upper window opened.

Who would have thought that brilliant and babbling Felicity Smoak would be working with classified information in an office on the campus of her University? She knew how she came across upon first meeting, she spoke far too much and was not as polished as young women were expected to be.  Nerves where want caused the flow of words to bubble from her lips and in the current times she had a hard time keeping up to date with the latest fashion trends. It was simply more effective to put her hair in a high ponytail when she was going to spend her days pouring over documents and numbers.  Make-up was a luxury that she didn’t indulge in, except for the tube of victory red lipstick that she always had on hand.  Her dresses where several seasons behind, but she couldn’t bring herself to spend money on frivolous things; many couldn’t. She remembered far too well how it had been growing up in the depression and would not just use the money she earned willy-nilly. 

Settling at her desk, she pulled a file from the stack and opened it to survey the data with in it. Her pencil scratched out a rhythmic tune as she reworked the numbers, checking the information that had already been check probably twice before it ever landed before her.

She’d just been promoted to first lead for the mathematics division, which meant that she’d being doing the same work she had already been doing for the same pay, but she now had an office to call her own. At just past twenty-two, she had (at first) felt far too young to be given such a heavy responsibility; one miscalculation could put their men in jeopardy or land a strike on innocents.  The numbers ended with her, she gave the final say on if they were correct, gave the stamp of approval before the information was sent out.  If this had been the time before the war, no one would had even thought that a woman, especially one as young as she was, would be able to handle such a position of authority.  Then she remembered Barry and all the other men that were far too young fighting in this war, many giving their lives, and she knew she couldn’t fret about feeling too young.  No one was young anymore.  No one was clean from this war.

Janie came in to her office, an erratic energy rating from around her, the woman’s eye were bright and mouth was firm. Felicity knew the look.  Urgent.  She took the file that Janie extended to her, and together they solved the necessary equation needed to save the lives of men who were all but dead. Not all would die if Felicity could help it.

\---

Blackness blurred on the edge of his vision as he attempted to open her eyes -- the room was both far too bright and far too dim at the same time. He bit back a groan and shut his eyes, while attempting to push himself up to a seat position.  He couldn’t just lay in bed all day, even if a voice told him it could all end now, he could go home.  Was he even deserving of going home? No. The answer was a simple one.  He didn’t need to expand on it.

He needed to see this war through till the end or die trying. It had taken far too much of him for Oliver to go back to his family, they didn’t know the man he was now. 

Pushing himself up, he felt a searing pain course through his leg. It was total and complete agony, causing his vision to implode while he fought back physical nausea from the pain, a noise of distress escaped him before he could clamp it down. Though his arms shook with the exertion and his whole being wished for him to just lay back down, Oliver pushed through it till he was seated upright, his jaw clenched tight and mouth a thin line to prevent further sounds of weakness to escape from him. Weakness wasn’t a luxury he was allowed himself to have.

There had been smoke and bodies everywhere, the sky rumbled and screeched with planes overhead, and he had had an image of a young cluster of soldiers, dirt covering their faces and uniforms, they had looked desperate and resigned -- they all had accepted their fates. That had angered Oliver.  He needed to save them, to protect them.  He’d led them here, this was the best plan he had managed to scrape together, and although he was certain these would be his last moments on Earth, he was going to save at least some of his men.  He’d push his body forward, the added weight from his weapon and pack did little to slow his movement.  Oliver paid no mind to the taste and smell of iron, decay and dirt nor the sting of the grazed bullet wound on his upper bicep, which warm blood was steadily flowing from -- he moved to take the position in front of the young men whom he was responsible for.  He was ready to use his body as a shield if need be.

Then there the sound of hope, a sound of death, and that was all he could piece together.

“Captain, please. You mustn’t move.”  Delicate hand tried to ease him back down and he flinched from the contact, a low animalistic growl rumbled in his throat.  It was a fitting noise as he hadn’t felt all that human for some time now.

What had become of his men? His wellbeing didn’t matter.  Theirs did.

“Captain. You’ve been badly injured.  Lucky to be alive.”  The young English lilt grated on his ears as he opened his eyes, fighting through the pain and nausea he cut a glare in her direction where she flitted next to his cot.  The nurse radiated nerves, she was green, and part of him felt bad at ignoring her words, she looked helpless.

“You caught the brunt force of an explosion, you have burns covering most of the lower half of your body, and your right leg was badly mangled.” She spoke quickly and he gave her a grunt, “You need time to recover, your men gave you the best treatment they could, and the doctors were able to save the limb, but you’re still at risk of losing it. Please, please Captain, please lay back down.”

Pushing aside the thin blanket he let himself gaze at the damage that he would have to repair. His right leg looked grotesque even under the bandages, bile rose in his throat, and his jaw ticked.  All he could feel was pain.  He barely could concentrate on her words, the pain was so sharp and consuming that he wondered if he would have been better just losing the limb all together.  How long till he could get out of bed?

“My men?” The question came out without a trace of the pain he felt.  The two word held all his authority and commanded the lithe nurse to respond.  She looked unsure if she should give him the information; she was far too thin, a wisp of a girl, who didn’t look old enough to be out of school age. Everyone was too young.

“I don’t know.” she fluttered nervously again, he felt the motion, but didn’t add the strain of keeping his gaze on here, “Four Privates were with you. They had helped as much as they could.  Claimed you saved their lives.”

She prattled on and Oliver tuned her out, choosing instead to embrace the pain and let his mind wander to all the men whose lives had been cut short. Yet here he still was.  He just couldn’t seem to die. Would he still be of use to the Army?  They would expect him to take leave. But even if he was injured psychically, as long as he his brain still operated the same, he was of use, he could make command see as such.  He was one of the best strategist they had.  He just had to prove his worth. He would see this war end. He would honor those men who could not.

\---

Standing from her work station, Felicity’s vision blackened for a moment causing her hands to bracket themselves on the smooth wooded desk to keep her upright. The darkness soon turned to spots and then her vision righted.

Her diet that day had been that of watered down black coffee and little else, and had been for the better part of the week, the lack of proper nutrition was catching up with her. She’d be no good to the war effort if she didn’t keep her health up and her mind sharp.  But she had little time to pick up groceries and tended to forget food entirely when she was wrapped up in her work.

Still, these were just excuses and she needed to take better care or she was certain that they would replace her if they felt she wasn’t up to the task. She’d go now and do a quick bit of shopping to hold her over till her designated day off.  A loaf of bread, three apples, a helping of root vegetables and half a dozen eggs should do.  It wouldn’t be much, but she did have milk and other assorted item in her apartment, she just needed to put them to better use in planning out her days.  Make a pot of stew for a meal when she got in, boil the eggs as quick things to grab in the morning, and have a simple sandwich and an apple during the day.  She needed to create a routine.  But it was hard to tear herself away from the work.

Felicity, refused to get sick. She needed to keep her health up.  So many people were counting on her and she couldn’t let the down.  She couldn’t let down the men risking their lives each day, couldn’t let her mind slip and make a miscalculation.  Yes, she could keep up her strength and find the time to eat. There would be no more waning vision in her future.  Pushing her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose with the back of a knuckle, she grabbed her purse and popped in to let the girls and then Dr. Wells know that she would be back shortly.

Even with the world at war, a girl needed to find time to eat, she needed to stay on top of skill set to help the American forces. The boys needed her, even if they didn’t know it.

\---

It had been just over 3 months since Oliver was cleared for duty, even that duty kept him firmly at a desk. His body was healed as well as it could be, he couldn’t walk without assistance of some sort, and his skin would forever be coated in scars, but what he lacked in physical he made up with in his mental sharpness.  He was back in Europe, just on the outskirts of the fighting doing all he could for the Allied forces, but before he had gotten on the plan to take him back to the war he had to get a meeting to see where the numbers came from that he based so much of his plans on.  He hadn’t expected much when he’d walked on to the campus in the manner he’d become accustomed to – stoic, surly, commanding, and wanting to be done with it before it had even began.  But he had left feeling better than he had in ages, and he wondered if Ms. Felicity Smoak could do more for his recovery than all the doctors and nurses had.

The recovery had been long, far too long, and was a stark reminder that he no longer lived in this world. People had wanted to small talk with him -- ask him about his day, talk about the weather, the basic pleasantries that were the norm in social decorum – and his response were stilted at best.  Even Thea, his younger sister, had a hard time eliciting responses from him.  All he wanted to focus on was healing and aiding the war effort.  Speaking of plans and going over information was familiar, made him feel useful.  He was uncomfortable with talk that didn’t pertain to the war, it had become all he knew.

The field hospital was ran by a mix of allied forces, and he knew there was a plan to transport him to a location that was better equipped to deal with his injuries. A Sergeant had come in on the day that they were to move him (Oliver wasn’t a small man by any means but this man had him beat in both height and width of muscles), one of his arms was in a sling and wore a scowl that Oliver identified with immediately.  

Several of the people around him were casting sidelong glances and some even wore looks of distaste. Oliver’s hackles rose.  He wasn’t blind to the Sergeant’s coloring, but he really didn’t see how it mattered to people, especially in these times, in this war.  Lives were on the line and skin color didn’t mean anything, they all bled red. 

Giving a lift of his head in greeting, then casted his eyes to the empty seat to the left of his cot. It tended to be occupied by a hovering nurse.  He had been deemed a flight risk and the nurses rarely let him even take a breath without one of them taking note of it.  He was being suffocated. 

There was a moment of pause, the Sergeant’s face remained tight and neutral as he took the seat all the while maintaining ramrod posture with his gaze set forward. They sat in silence for some time, one of the American nurses came to check on Oliver’s wrappings and he felt the man’s eye skim over his injury, and he could feel the man tense.  There a dark smile that played in the back of Oliver’s mind, it held no joy, he watched as the nurse moved quickly away from the pair of them to tend to another patient.  The kid didn’t look barely a day over eighteen and the reaper hung close waiting to take him -- this place reeked of antiseptic and death.

“One of yours?” The graveled question came from his left and Oliver gave the barest shake of his head, the muscle in his jaw gave a tick. “Just a kid,” the Sergeant said in a hollow tone.

Then the silence blanketed them. It was a welcomed reprieve -- one soldier to another.  The Sergeant had lent a hand when they had come about to transport him and then without a sound, they said their goodbyes. 

Oliver had been transported to England and then to the States where he finished his recovery. His new role had forced him to socialize before setting back out to Europe -- meetings with civilian contractors that had clearance levels that nearly rivaled his own; meetings that led him to meeting the woman who he was currently reading a letter from.

She could pull a smile from him without even trying to with her quick words and brilliant mind. All of the recovery, the push to be put to use was worth it, and the forced meets had been worth it.  He had found a light in all the darkness.

\---

Felicity sat with an apple in hand as she imputed the numbers into her calculator, the printed numbers were stark on the white sheet of paper, the numbers firmly divided into two columns. Death numbers.  Savior numbers.  She guessed it all depend on which side of the coin you found yourself.  The clicking of the keys, and then the smooth motion of the paper sliding through as she found a rhythm to the work.  The numbers were good and now they were being put through for the latest command.  Coming to the end, she gave a last stoke before pulling the papers toward her and giving them one last critical once over, before taking them to the publishing station.

This was her last job of the night, Dr. Wells had popped in not ten minutes for and had nearly thrown her out.

“Between Ms. Snow and yourself, I’m certain that if I didn’t watch over you, neither of you would get any rest.” He wasn’t wrong.  The hours she was putting in were long, and judging by the grim set of Dr. Wells jaw, he thought them to be too long.  But the work, even with it being work for the war, helped ease her thoughts of General Oliver Queen. Even though nearly year had passed, he still invaded her mind constantly. The brilliant, handsome Officer who was set on saving the world.  She didn’t know if he was even aware that he did so, it didn’t seem that way from his letter.  He was just so matter of fact about the job, as if it was the norm to care as deeply about the outcome of others and to take each life on his shoulders.

Stepping into the chilled early December air, she saw Caitlin Snow sitting on one of the steps that lead up to the building. She was bundled in her coat with her face turned skyward.  Felicity sat herself next to the other woman without a second thought.

There was a comfortable silence for several heartbeats, then Felicity let out a soft sigh, and reclined herself back, “Did Dr. Wells give you an earful as well? The man can be worse type of mother hen when he sets his mind to it.”  She spoke the words with a smile.  He was a good man to work for.

Caitlin was nodding her head, “And yet the light in his office is still on.”

“Pretty sure he has taken to living here. I have thought of doing the same, but I wouldn’t put it past him to write to my mom.  Then I’d have to deal with her coming across the country to keep an eye on me.”

Words were always there for Felicity, an ever present companion that she could count on to never fail her. Often times they got away from her: nerves caused her to speak at a rapid fire pace about all manner of things, excitement had her prattling on about the subject at hand, anger had her using them as a weapon.  They were a comfort, even if her own babbling had cause her to flush in embarrassment too many times to even count, talking helped her cope with the state of the world.

She knew Caitlin could get too much in her own head, withdrawal into her own skin and come across as icy in those moments, but the woman was also one of the brightest people Felicity had ever met. Befriending her had been natural, they had gravitated together within the first day of working which had been the starting point for their commanding work relationship and friendship.  Caitlin’s thoughts must have wandered to Ronnie, her fiancé who was serving in one of the combat engineer battalions, because in times of silence Felicity’s own thoughts went to Oliver and they were just writing companions.

“Best to appease the man then.” Caitlin’s tone was light as she finally turned to face Felicity.  She always looked exceedingly professional and in control, a hair never out of place -- sometimes having control of just one thing, allowed you to feel like you had a semblance of control in life. 

“Have you eaten yet? I actually made a casserole just the other night and have a fair few portion leftover.”

The smile Caitlin wore was small, but growing, “Felicity, do not take this the wrong way, but you aren’t meant to cook.”

“Yes, but a girl has to eat. Though it is a good thing my livelihood does not hinge on my ability to put together a meal.  It shouldn’t be that difficult.  There is a recipe, I follow it.  I can do complex calculations without a second thought, but the culinary arts completely allude me.”  Felicity lightly grumbled, before giving Caitlin a bright smile, “Big Belly Burger then?”

 “That sounds heavenly.”  Caitlin gave her a laugh as they both pushed up to their feet to make the walk to the diner.  “Oh, would you have time Saturday to go out for a quick bit of holiday shopping.” 

Felicity gave a bob of her head. “I need to find a box, I swear Oliver’s letters are taking over my vanity. Which definitely not something I’m complaining about, but I’d like for them to have a proper home in my apartment.”  She could feel the light flush coloring her cheeks, but Caitlin just gave her a look of understanding before looping their arms together and making their way into the night.

\---

There was a light smattering of rain against the window pane, though the morning sky outside was a vibrant blue that nearly rivaled Felicity’s eyes, at the moment her eyes were closed and she was curled beside him, her left hand resting idly on the center of his chest as if she could anchor him to where they sat on the too small couch that came fitted with the apartment that he had rented earlier in the week.

Felicity had come over late the night before nearly bursting with energy, she was bouncing on the balls of her feet, with her lips pulled in and pressed tight as if she was trying to hold words in. However the moment the door had closed behind her, she had let loose and the smile she’d given him had nearly taken his legs out from under him.  Then she was in his arms, her arms twining themselves around his neck, her small frame vibrating with her excitement. 

She never seemed to give his injury a second thought, never wanted to ‘fix’ the broken man, she just treated him like he was hers and that always caused a flood of emotions it rise high in his throat and warm his chest. It was a heat of having her in his arms that caused him to still and stiffen.  It wasn’t proper to have her alone in his apartment, and although he cared little how the world might see him, he would go to war for Felicity’s reputation.

“I got offered a job. A life changing job Oliver.  When I say life changing, I mean I am one of a handful who has been offered a role to be trained to be a programmer.  It’s all very hush hush as to what we are working on but Oliver, they want me to work with an electronic digital computer, to help program it.  Me, Oliver.  I didn’t even know that it was a possibility, the DoD approached me, and mum is the word on my involvement, but I had to tell you.  There are programs that will be operating in Philadelphia, Cape Canaveral, Pasadena, and Seattle – so they asked me to relocate to one of them if I chose to take on the position.

Oliver heard the way she said Seattle, watched as the color worked high in her cheeks and the silent unasked question that was poised to him. Could it all be that simple? 

“Did you give them a response?” His voice was a low rasp as his eye tracked over her features and felt his breathing stop as she gave him a slow nod of her head.

“Yes, they needed my response almost immediately. They approached Caitlin as well.  She’s going to be in California, which I’m told is a short enough travel, a full day’s drive, but surely I could grab a train and visit for a long weekend.  It’s where she and Ronnie are from, well the state of California, not from Pasadena, but she’s excited to be going back.”

Oliver knew what the woman in his arms was saying as she continued on talking at an increasingly high rate of speed. She had told them Seattle.

The apartment that he was currently living in was temporary until he decided what the best next move was. His family was on the opposite coast and her work was here.  He would not be selfish and ask her to give up work that she loved to come and live with him in Washington state.  He knew just how important her career was for her and he felt that it would be too sudden to ask her to move for him.  Though they had written for nearly two years, they had barely spent time together, and although he wanted to make her his wife, he hadn’t wanted to push for too much to fast and risk losing her.

“You’re moving to Seattle.”

“Well. Yes.”  She said it like there had been no other option and his heart swelled.

After all the hell the war had been, after all it had ripped him of, it had given him her. He wanted to be able to get on one knee and ask this woman to spend the rest of her life with him, if she would have him.  The ring in his pocket burned.

He had bought it while on his way to her apartment on his second day back in the States. The simple ring had called to him -- it consisted of round diamond in a square gold setting, with two small round diamonds bracketing it on either side – and before he knew it he was in the shop and had bought it.  Ever since he wondered how and when would be the best time to ask.  It weighed heavy on his mind even when Felicity had settled next to him and fallen asleep. 

He should have taken her back to her apartment, but couldn’t bring himself to wake her and he wasn’t in the position where he’d be able to move her while she slept. So, he stayed where he was and allowed himself a few hours of sleep with the woman he loved in his arms.

Now, however, in the morning light, as Oliver stared down at the bare ring finger of her hand that was placed protectively over his heart, he felt a growl catch in his throat. Oliver knew of the struggles he would face having to adapt back to living and not just surviving -- he was dark and damaged, and Felicity Smoak was brilliant and bright, and he would go through the war all over again if it meant that he would spend the rest of his life with the woman now sleeping in his arms.  

With slow movements so as not to jostle Felicity from her sleep, Oliver slipped the ring free from the pocket of his trousers. The stones sparkled bright in sun that streaked in through the windows and a sense of complete contentedness swept through him as he guided the ring where it was meant to be.

Felicity stirred drowsily and Oliver ran a large calloused hand along her back in soothing circles, but he could tell the moment she came awake when her body stiffened for a beat with awareness only to melt back into his a second later. Fire flood Oliver’s system, but he maintained the light caresses along her back and waited till she saw the ring.  He wasn’t the best when it came to words, the past four years had stripped him of being at ease with them, but he was comfortable expressing himself through actions. 

She paused, he felt as her chin dipped down and the muscles in her body tense, and then he felt her smile, the press of her hand firmly against his chest before she slid it up to rest on his cheek as she tilted her head back so their eyes could meet. He never wanted to be without this woman.

Tears pooled in her eyes as her head bobbed up and down in a silent answer of yes, and then she was kissing him. Her soft lips felt like heaven and hearing the crack in her voice as she repeated the word yes into his lips, filled him as he pulled her flush against him.  She was taking him as her husband.  She wanted him forever.  The truth of it made his head spin and her heart pound with overwhelming joy.

The war had taken so much from him but it had given him her.   
He was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched Dunkirk...and then a thing happened. That thing was I wanted give more of a glimpse into both characters during the war.  
> So...yeah.
> 
> Don't let me watch things...they lead to me writing like a crazy person.
> 
> Also, so sorry that I haven't gotten to respond to all your amazing responses to this story. I promise I will...soon!  
> Hope everyone enjoys!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this idea popped into my brain after watching a documentary called 'Top Secret Rosies' which was fascinating and a quick one-shot kinda just took root in my mind and refused to leave. 
> 
> Is this historically accurate? Eh...it could be worse.  
> I took some creative freedom. Still, I love it and did try to keep the historic integrity. 
> 
> It's something different and has been added to the new 'In Every Timeline' series, which is me writing one shots of Olicity in different time periods.


End file.
